


bulan dipagari bintang

by snsk



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anchors, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance, Soulmates, Vampire Louis, Werewolf Harry, au - supernatural beings, louis and harry with fangs!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 14:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>right now this is his pack, the vampire harry's burning his scent into, murmuring nonsensities about the stars and their stories.</p><p>// or: harry is sixteen when he comes into his werewolf form. louis is terribly, wonderfully ageless, and still, always a vampire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bulan dipagari bintang

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harlequinnd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequinnd/gifts).



it's drizzling lightly outside, and louis' hand is damp where it's touching harry's jaw.

the window lets in rain-scented coolness, nothing compared to the tips of louis' fingers over harry's fur, feeling, restoring balance.

harry's still panting fast and panicked, but it's like louis can restore his heartbeat, remind him who he is, and eventually it gets easier to breathe.

louis tilts harry's head up. harry looks into blue eyes, perpetually dark-circled.

"you'll be alright, kitten," louis says, an assurance, a knowledge. calm, where harry is anything but.

"lou-" harry tries to say, but in this form, no words come out, only a stilted, pitiful whine.

"ah, love," louis says fondly. 

the moon is bright and complete, roundly mocking against the drizzled pane of harry's half-open window, and louis leans against the foot of harry's bed, gathers harry into his arms. his fingers card through harry's fur.

it's almost enough for harry to forget the need to run, the pull of the moon outside, the hunger for the hunt.

almost.

"harry?" gemma calls out. "we're leaving!"

this is his second full moon. the first one, he'd run with them, with his mother and sister, couldn't help it, lost control of himself completely. all wolf. he'd woken up the next morning and vomited all over the bathroom floor, taste of blood and intestine stale on his tongue.

he buries his head into louis' lap more, and louis fondles with his ears.

"cooped up here, you'll destroy the house," he tells harry sensibly. 

harry's favorite pastime when they're cuddling is to try and imagine louis' heartbeat, listen intently for that steady lub-dub, pretend it's a phantom-limb thing - that louis feels it speed up when harry's nearer. he swears he can feel it sometimes when he's pressed to louis' chest, when louis is doing that approximation of sleeping, sated and comfortable amongst harry's limbs. tonight he tries to focus on seeking it out, rather than the draw of the moon, the pull and pull and pull of the tides.

it's almost enough. (almost)

"come on, then, mate," louis says, and he shifts harry off his lap, heads for the window. turns back, sudden and unnaturally quick.

harry is about to follow him, as much as he doesn't want to, because if louis leaves, there is nothing even remotely pretending to keep him here.

"hi, sweetheart," louis says, crouching down till he's eye-level with harry. "i'll stay with you, alright? i'll be your anchor, baby, if you'll have me."

the last part is spoken almost exaggeratedly, a hint of a smile, but harry latches onto them.

louis climbs out the window he darted through half an hour ago, and harry follows, leaping into the night.

:::

at first, the wolf is wild, uncontained, happy to be free. the fresh crisp scent of rain, layering the leaves, musking the wood. harry fights to regain control, but the wolf is already bounding after gemma, teeth bared and howls abandoned.

there's laughter, in front of him - and that's not gem, that's not pack, but it is - it's the silvery stuff of the moon, but it's also the blood running wild in the wolf's veins, that laughter, and the wolf hesitates, turning.

the scent is strands of moon too, wispy and twisting away. the wolf listens, but hears no heartbeat.

he's not wary, though, he just trots towards him, easy as that, and harry's back in control.

"there we go," louis whispers, pad of his thumb in between harry's ears, "work with him, then, c'mon, think you can beat me?" 

he sets off running, and harry follows.

when he's chasing louis, the wolf takes over, just for a bit, more intimately familiar with the branches of the ground and how to skid away from the moss in ways harry could never hope to master, sixteen and all gangly limbs. but harry knows who he is, and who he's after, and that's louis, that's who he wants. who the wolf wants, and it's easy as that, then, to co-habit this body with the wolf

(i'll be your anchor, baby),

and he runs, delighted and lit up with the moon, through the laid-out forest and then to the clearing, an edge where the trees meet the city, where he finds louis dangling his feet, looking down on the starry lights below.

"i win," louis says simply. harry pads over and louis puts an arm around him. louis cools him where he's overheated, and he'd like to think he gives louis a little of his excess warmth. thermal equilibrium, although it doesn't work that way when louis' body rejects heat wholly.

maybe it's like, it's like harry with louis' heartbeat, seeking out a rhythm where there, to all accounts and purposes, shouldn't be one. maybe it's like that, louis with harry's warmth, melting into harry closer, like he can feel his skin tingling with phantom heat.

"it's okay, then?" louis asks, soft.

harry nods, burrowing deeper into louis' shirt (love will tear us apart) and louis says, "good." says, "i told you so, y'huge worrywart."

harry is exhausted, suddenly. fighting his wolf for the better part of the evening had taken a lot out of him, and finally melding with it hadn't been any less tiring. he was still pleasantly buzzing with the want to run run chase chase hunt hunt pack moon, but it's okay, there's still tomorrow night. 

right now this is his pack, the vampire harry's burning his scent into, murmuring nonsensities about the stars and their stories

(he died every night just to let her breathe),

and slowing harry's heartrate enough to let him sleep, for a bit.

all night, whatever.

:::

harry meets louis when he is two years old.

gemma takes her eye off him for two seconds, and he's toddling off across the garden, under the hedge that separates their houses. he scurries interestedly around, sees a Person by the pool.

it's the Person he sees leaving the house sometimes, when harry's standing on tiptoes and looking out the window, and harry just wants to say hi.

so he does.

Person looks a bit startled, at first, but harry's opening his arms, begging to be carried. Person has blue eyes, not like gemma's or momma's. blue eyes, clear and sparkly like the pool Person is near.

harry sighs happily. it's nice and cool in Person's arms, like bathwater is after momma's finished cleaning him. Person holds him close, sighs, "hello there, kitten."

"harry!!" and that's gemma, darting over with her worried face on. "louis, i'm sorry-"

"that's fine," Person says. "he's all big now, huh?"

"yeah," and gemma looks at him, not like she's angry, good. harry had just wanted to see Person properly. "naughty, though."

"oh," Person says, "here-" and he's being passed from one pair of arms to another, and no, harry scrunches up his face and opens his mouth to complain loudly and gemma says, "harry, c'mon, don't, not in front of louis," and Person laughs, says: "it's okay, i can - i can hold him, it's-"

and harry stops crying, he's in Person's arms again and it's all nice and cool, like late at night when harry kicks the blanket off, and he reaches out and touches Person's face curiously, the darker blue under his eyes and the edges of Person's eyes sort of scrunch up at him but in a not-upset way, he says, "hi, harry." says, "m'name's louis, nice to meet you."

:::

coming fully into his powers means being able to shift into wolf, all the time, but uncontrollably on the full moon. what else happens on the full moon is that harry becomes very, very horny.

like. like holy fuck, and gemma had sat him down, a couple of months back, and told him, teenager, new wolf, therefore lots and lots of inappropriate erections everywhere, but oh god, harry hadn't expected to spend the first two days of his first full moon rubbing one off anywhere he could get it. getting hard during breakfast, class, feeding the cat. trying to avoid louis because god, was he worse than anything, his cool fingers and his golden skin and his eyes and teeth and tongue, and harry wanted all of louis all over him, and louis was his best friend, and louis was a hundred year old vampire with tons of experience who didn't, not with a sixteen year old awkwardly limbed werewolf, and, and, fuck.

and, louis is right here, lying in bed beside harry, and it's the second night tonight and harry is still hyped up over his run and buzzing with adrenaline and he wants to surge up and kiss louis' bottom lip, the space under his ear, let louis take him, let the wolf whine with how good it all feels, and.

and harry shivers, nothing to do with louis' cool arms around him. shivers with need, driven deep inside him since thirteen, or earlier, unrealised. and now the need's formed external, like the fur, the claws, and harry shivers. wanting.

he thinks about louis being his best friend, at four and five and six.

:::

"fun," he tells his mum. "um, we did colouring. i broke my sunshine yellow crayon. can i go visit louis now?"

"drink your milk," his mum says.

"it's drunken!!" harry says, raising his glass defensively. mum raises her eyebrows. 

"all up."

"okay," harry sighs. he drinks it all up, last tiny drops, then says, "mum!!"

"alright, sweetheart," she says, "back by five, or else," and harry's out the door, running.

"louis!" he says. louis is dangling his feet in his pool, bottom of his pants rolled up. 

"hi, kitten," he says. "how was school?"

"mrs roberts says vampires drink blood," harry frowns. he pulls off his trainers and sits down beside louis and dangles, too. it's awfully nice, the water. "do you drink blood? i've never seen you drink blood."

louis curls his toes slowly underwater. harry watches them. 

"i drink blood," louis says. "i have to, to survive."

"she said human blood," harry says doubtfully. "she said vampires could be dangerous. you're not dangerous."

"i drink - donated human blood," louis says, finally. "i try not to be dangerous. if i don't have enough to drink, i can be."

harry finds the whole idea absurd. a dangerous louis would be like a warm louis, or a louis who didn't crinkle up his eyes at harry and tell him about vikings. just - not louis.

mrs roberts is silly anyway, she'd also said werewolves were dangerous and harry's one, and he doesn't feel dangerous At All, even when he tries hard, makes growly faces at the mirror. gem and mum, they're so not scary either, except sometimes when mum's really mad, when harry'd run out into the road and that time when gemma hadn't come back till late late at night. and even then she's not dangerous, so what would mrs roberts know about louis?

"can you teach me to swim in the sea yet?" he asks instead. "i'm old enough already."

"you promised first grade, pal," says louis. "few months to go."

"ugh," says harry, because ugh. "that's, that's years away, louis."

"it's a few months, kitten," louis placates.

"years," harry insists.

"four months, to be exact," louis says.

"years," harry tells him.

"it'll come 'round in no time," louis says, reaching down and splashing some water on harry. harry squeals, more for the indignity than anything. "i win."

harry reaches over to get at him but he's laughing, tickling harry's sides already, too fast for harry. louis has a nice nice laugh, it tinkles like the windchimes at niall's house. harry's wheezing when louis stops tickling, still trying and failing to hit at him with his fists.

"mrs roberts also said vampires live for cent- cenchurees," says harry when everything's calmer and he's lying with his head in louis' lap, louis playing with his hair. "have you lived for cenchurees?"

"i have lived many years, yeah," says louis, "side effect of this condition."

"did you see the vikings?" harry asks.

"not that many years," smiles louis.

"that's a waste, then," harry says contemplatively.

"i think so too," says louis.

:::

it's hard to breathe, when louis isn't kissing him. it's silent in the room, the call is appeased for another night, but harry is - he's so, so antsy, crawling out of his skin.

sometimes harry thinks louis - could, could want him that way, when he looks at him, where he thinks harry isn't looking. (but harry is always looking, when it comes to louis)

but he ruffles his hair, talks to gemma about a throwaway thing, and harry is reminded that louis watched him grow up, fed him baby food and freaking helped potty train him, will never think of him as anything desirable, and yeah, it hurts, when harry's wanted louis hard, so hard, since maybe forever, but definitely thirteen.

and it's a cool night, maybe, but harry's itchy-warm with desire, and god, but he's almost howling for louis' hands on him, louis who's lying there all calm and serene when harry needs his dick inside him.

:::

so. thirteen, and puberty hitting harry in the most awkward way possible: in the shape of louis' mouth, the line of his neck, the deceptively-soft looking skin all over. all the things that've always made louis louis but now amplified, sensualised, beckoning.

he has his first wank in the privacy of his own room, but it doesn't stop gemma from banging in the next morning, taking one sniff and loudly announcing to the house and the world that harry's a man now, praise the lord.

harry quite wants to die, avoids his mum's eyes for three days, but it doesn't stop him from returning from louis' house two days later and furtively stroking himself off again, slower, again to louis' lovely small-strong hands and the sound of his voice when he calls harry "kitten."

so yeah - it's about that time that "kitten" turns sexual, makes harry's pulse speed up every time louis says it. he says it less now, probably not wanting to embarrass harry, who's now a teenager, and automatically embarrassed by a lot more things, but sometimes, harry just wants to watch the word leave his lips, so he can turn his head and muffle louis' name into his pillow late at night.

at fourteen, harry gets his first girlfriend. her name's tasha and she's got grey eyes, is bouncy and lovely and she asks harry to her junior prom, and harry goes. he wears a tux and drinks punch and hangs out with niall and liam, and dances with tash slow at the tail-end of the night.

that means they're dating, apparently - he finds that out the next monday at school and tells louis later that day, a bit bemusedly, and louis laughs and laughs and kicks up a storm of water and then lies there floating, still giggling.

she meets louis after two weeks, because louis is his best friend.

"what has harry been telling you?" louis asks, easy, pulling on his skates. "nothing but wonderful things, i should hope."

he gets up and offers his hand to tasha; she takes it and they both step onto the ice, tash with practiced caution, louis with careless throwaway ease, the effortless grace that makes everything he does look like a work of art.

(unsettling, taylor had told him. like a wild animal, like he's gonna attack. 

he never has her over again, project partners or not.)

"he's told me nothing but wonderful things," he can hear tasha assuring louis, and then louis' Pleased Reply. harry rolls his eyes and tentatively steps out onto the ice, wobbly and one step, two step, that's good, that's - fuck -

louis' hands are around his arms, and that's his fondly exasperated sigh. tasha's still blinking at how louis got from her side to saving harry from a potentially girlfriend-losing embarrassment of a fall, but she doesn't seem weirded out, and harry appreciates that. now, he looks up at louis, and louis shakes his head at him, grins as he hisses, "play it cool, mate. jesus."

"i /am/ cool, lou," harry insists. "girls dig this."

tasha's still looking at them; harry offers her a smile. louis' fingers are digging into harry's skin as he giggles around "no, they really don't." her family moves away two months later, so.

harry isn't particularly cut up about it, maybe pretends he is a bit more than he actually is to get sympathy and hot chocolate from his mum, closer cuddling from louis.

fifteen, and harry has a date with a boy. nick, actually. it's at an ice cream place and he has fun; laughs a lot, and nick wipes off some ice cream on the corner of harry's mouth with his thumb, leans in to kiss the same spot when he drops harry off at his house. 

harry likes the soft chapped feel of nick's lips, but his eyes are on louis' window, where the light's on.

he wonders if louis has finished the season of breaking bad he was on yesterday when harry saw him last; suddenly misses him terribly, wants to place his head in his lap, wants the feel of his fingers in his hair, calming, cold, wants him to ask, how was it, kitten? 

wants to answer, a boy kissed me, and i wished it was you.

"night, nick," harry says, smiling up at him.

"g'night, harry," nick says, softer than usual, waving. driving off into the night. 

harry checks in with his mum and lets himself in five minutes later at louis', wearing his pjs. louis is in his room, on the next season now.

"freeloader," he says, tsking at harry bringing a packet of louis' crisps in with him.

"mhm," harry agrees. he puts his head in louis' lap, and yeah, that feels like coming home, back from a trip to the moon.

:::

"are you awake?" harry whispers, when he can't find louis' heartbeat tonight. ignoring the fact that it's a redundant question. sometimes, louis likes to pretend.

"yes," louis says. he opens his eyes, slow. they shine in the white moonlight. "do you want to go out again?"

"no," says harry. he gets up, sits cross-legged, drums his knuckles on his knee. looks at louis, lying with his arm under his head. his ramones t-shirt rides up just a bit. 

"restless, are we," louis says, and yes, exactly, harry is so restless, the moon flickering bright inside of him. wants louis' fingers and lips and teeth steadying him. anchoring him.

"louis," harry says, because he doesn't know what else to say, he's sixteen and he's wanted this, to bury himself inside louis, his whole life, forever, and it's, he surges forward and kisses louis, begging. his wolf is going crazy with it, his wolf is whining and pleading. "please," harry mumbles into louis' lips, and he's trembling, little shivers that he only notices when louis slides his arm out to steady harry's fingers. cups the other hand around harry's cheek.

he kisses harry back, is the thing, and it's, oh. when he slides his tongue into harry's mouth, runs it over harry's teeth, it's like the wolf and the moonlight and the trembling settle down, and at the same time the blood in harry's veins starts fizzing, a jittery vibration. fireworks inside his body.

:::

eleven, and mum sits harry down: "i want to talk to you about your transformation."

harry side-eyes her - he pretty much gets it all. they turn into wolves, and it's cool. they run every month, with the other packs, sometimes, letting the wolf run free, and harry gets the house to himself for the night, and louis plays xbox with him, mostly. or helps him with his homework. or they go for a midnight swim in louis' pool. at sixteen, he'll go running too, when the fangs kick in and the fur blankets his body and the claws start growing, rapid and violent. he'll learn how to control it when it's not the full moon, and that's it. it's not a big deal, and he tells his mum as much.

"yeah, but baby," she says, "it's not as simple as that, gaining control. it took gem a year. the primal instincts are really strong - you've got to learn to manage emotion, or the wolf takes over. it's gonna be hard, so i'm talking to you about it early."

there's one thing she adds, almost as an afterthought: "unless you've got an anchor, but you're too young, so anchors aren't really any use for control because by that time we're old enough to manage the transformation ourselves."

:::

but, but - it is, now, for harry. as simple as that. it'd taken him a month to control his wolf, to meld with it, because louis had been there, anchoring him to himself. harry can't quite breathe as he thinks about it, hovering slightly above louis as they kiss, over and over, slowly frantic, charged but easy, and harry can't quite help his hands from hopefully sliding under louis' shirt, over the soft-feeling diamond-strong skin, higher higher and - ow -

"shit, kitten," louis gasps, "you'll be the death of me," and harry tastes the blood in his mouth, registers the sudden appearance of louis' needle-point fangs as he pulls away. he rolls the taste around, slow. chases louis' mouth again, and louis mumbles, "death wish," slowly tilting harry's head away with his fingers.

harry isn't pleased, to say the least. there's a little whine in the back of his throat that he isn't sure comes from himself or the wolf but that's okay, louis owns both.

"kiss me," harry says.

"i want to," louis says, low, fingertips on harry's jaw, trailing. "too much."

"please," harry says. the urgent manic beating of desire is gone, louis' lips smoothing his pulse point over, but harry needs this, always has. he hears himself sounding desperate, and can almost bring himself to care.

almost.

he probably will, the next morning. it's just, the roundness of the moon is dreamy in his veins, now. so he can't think. he's anchored to this vampire, has been his whole life, and there's nothing much else to think about.

"i'll heal," harry adds as an afterthought. from anything. if louis is afraid of hurting him. but harry can't bring himself to be afraid, six years old and he knew his vampire.

"i won't hurt you," louis says, and he sounds almost offended, but a bit like he's telling himself he can't.

"then c'mon," harry demands.

"harry -" louis starts. sighs. "you're so young -"

-harry is going to smother him with his pillow, he swears to god-

"and you haven't even dated anyone else, not properly, like, you haven't even seen nick again-"

"don't need to," harry says, a bit bemused, "always wanted you. you know that."

maybe no definitely going to regret this in the morning

"i," says louis. his hand is freezing on harry's cheek, the temperature of harry's childhood, the cold metal of his anchor. "baby, we mate for life. like. you're sixteen. you should go out, first, enjoy yourself. you should-"

"louis," says harry, equally as seriously, "so do we. you're a hundred and two. you should kiss me, you've taken your time."

and he's pressing his lips to louis' again, and louis is mumbling despairingly, "that doesn't even make-" but his arm is draped over harry's back, and if harry were to look, his skin would be glowing under the silvery gaze of the moon.

:::

**Author's Note:**

> anchor concept taken from teen wolf  and changed a bit here and there; louis and harry are a mixture of vamp/were cliches.
> 
> title taken from an old malay saying, beautiful like the moon framed by its stars.
> 
> as always i adore comments and i probably could use corrections as it's one am and close to exams xx


End file.
